


Of Deals and Devils

by MomentsAway



Series: Of Deals and Devils [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, kinda sorta mentions of blood!kink, language bc Grimmjow can't help himself, sorta graphic depctions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 20:05:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18080051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MomentsAway/pseuds/MomentsAway
Summary: I hate summaries almost as much as I hate titling my fics :-P  Technically, this is the prequel to Routine. I thought it was posted already but I was mistaken haha, so here you go.My summary on LJ was "How Aizen strikes a deal." If you can do better, feel free to leave it in the comments <3





	Of Deals and Devils

“Fight me!” Grimmjow aimed a blow at Ichigo’s head. His zanpaktou sliced through the air with a whispered swipe and barely missed its target.

Ichigo scowled as he blocked advance after advance. His frustration showed in his fighting; he was constantly on the defensive, never getting an attack in, and feeling all too aware of the precarious footing he had on the roof they were on.

“Fight me, you fucker!” The demand was repeated and followed by a quick slash to his arm.

Ichigo hissed in pain as a deep red swell of blood formed on his forearm. He stumbled backwards and landed hard on his ass. Zangetsu skidded across the tiles of the roof and dropped to the ground below. He turned wary eyes to the Arrancar who now stood triumphantly above him. The wide smile stretching the man’s face made Ichigo’s eyebrow twitch in irritation.

Grimmjow knelt down and leaned close to the arm Ichigo was cradling. He sniffed at the blood and licked his lips.

Ichigo’s own lips twisted in disgust at the obscene gesture and he hugged his arm closer to his body.

“Pussy.” Grimmjow taunted softly as he stared at the gash.

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”

Grimmjow puffed his chest out with pride at the insult.

“We said sparring. Drawing blood is not part of sparring, you idiot.” Without thinking, Ichigo presented his wounded arm to emphasize his point.

Grimmjow leaned in again and swept his tongue over the cut, eliciting a gasp from the shinigami.

He remained close to the arm, his mouth open a bit, tongue flexing in his mouth with anticipation. His eyes slid halfway closed and he could feel a low purr building in his chest.

Ichigo’s muscles strained with the desire to knock the shit out of the blue haired nuisance in front of him, but he lacked the conviction to do it. He could do nothing more than focus on the cooling spot on his arm where a warm tongue had been.

“This was a bad idea,” he croaked out, keeping his eyes on the still form kneeling before him. It took more strength to _not_ touch the other man, be it violently or otherwise, than it did to fight him.

Grimmjow risked a glance up and grinned at the indecision he saw in the warm brown eyes staring at him. “Got any better ideas of how we might pass the time?” He licked his lips again and leered suggestively.

Ichigo was transfixed. The same lips that usually spewed nonsense and filth were now so near to his own. When had he let that damn creature get so close to him? His mind supplied him with reasons to back away and he tried to resist the sudden and inexplicable shutting down of his common sense. His body leaned towards the Arrancar and he fought a rapidly losing battle against his closing eyelids and parting lips.

A deep voice suddenly broke the spell they were under and they both jerked apart as if burned.

“I can certainly think of plenty of other ways the two of you could be passing the time other than engaging in acts of treason and insubordination.”

 

**.oOo**.

It was the ever-faithful Ulquiorra that alerted Aizen to Grimmjow’s latest antics.

The small Arrancar had approached him discretely and explained that he had been following the Sexta these past weeks while they were between battles with the shinigami.

“Grimmjow sought out the substitute shinigami to exact revenge for… whatever the boy did to offend Grimmjow.”

Aizen nodded and gestured for him to continue.

“It would seem the boy struck some kind of deal with Grimmjow involving no bloodshed and no death. They say they are only sparring.” If the Fourth Espada felt any irritation towards the blue haired Arrancar, neither his voice nor his face betrayed it.

Aizen frowned. What did he do wrong when he made the Sexta? Why was this Arrancar a constant source of disobedience and annoyance? He began to tell Ulquiorra to set Tousen after the heathen Arrancar, but Gin spoke up.

“Now Souske,” Ulquiorra flinched at the use of his master’s given name, “this could be useful, dontcha think?” He sidled to the steps in front of Aizen’s throne and gracefully sat down, his trademark smirk plastered to his face.

Ulquiorra glared at the slender man perched at Aizen’s feet. Ichimaru Gin was fast becoming the bane of his existence, never leaving Aizen’s side. He couldn’t understand why Grimmjow had such a problem with the quiet Tousen-sama but seemed indifferent to Ichimaru.

Ulquiorra remained calm as he straightened himself and waited for Aizen to give him an order. It was obvious this was no longer a private conversation.

“Of what use to me is a disobedient and obviously defective Espada, Gin?” Aizen did not sound as cross as his words might imply. Instead, he sounded curious and amused.

Gin’s smile widened and he raised a skeletal hand to peer at his nails as he spoke.

“Well, just think of all the things we could do to him as punishment.” Gin’s head lolled on his neck and he hummed quietly, seeming lost in thought on the matters of said punishment.

Ulquiorra spoke softly. “With all due respect, Ichimaru-sama, Grimmjow would probably enjoy punishment.”

“Exactly.”

The smile Gin turned to offer Aizen was snake-like. It crept up Ulquiorra’s spine and made his back stiffen. His lips turned down slightly in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. A quick glance to Aizen, and Ulquiorra’s stomach turned with horror; Aizen mirrored Gin’s grin.

 

**.oOo.**

Grimmjow jumped up so quick that Ichigo thought he’d used flash step. The Arrancar kept his head bowed and clenched his fists at his sides. He didn’t bother making excuses. In fact, he didn’t speak at all.

Ichigo glared at the former 3rd Division Captain and jutted out his chin in general defiance of the man’s very presence. Aizen was leaning against the wall of the building, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed. His smile was slight but smug; the cat that got the cream.

The pain in Ichigo’s arm was nothing now, having been overcome with adrenaline and the sudden urge to kill the dark haired villain who was now moving closer to him.

Aizen knelt down and tried to inspect Ichigo’s wound, but the appendage was pulled out of reach as Ichigo stood and looked around for his zanpaktou.

“Now, now, Kurosaki Ichigo. I am not here to fight you.” Aizen waved his hand and glanced over at his subordinate.

“It would seem that you already have an arrangement with my Arrancar that satiates your seeming _need_ for violence. I am merely here to see how this arrangement benefits me.” Aizen stood with an easy grace and circled the Sexta Espada slowly, watching the other’s body twitch with restrained nerves.

“I’ll show you my need for violence, you sonofabitch!” Ichigo made a swift move for Zangetsu and swung it at Aizen with all the strength he possessed.

It happened in slow motion: Aizen turned to smile at Ichigo as one would smile at a child attempting to get to a cookie jar out of his reach. He did not move an inch as Ichigo swung at him. There was a loud battle cry that sounded weak compared to the _clang_ of metal on metal as Zangestsu’s blade met the thinner, but equally powerful zanpaktou that belonged to Grimmjow.

Aizen’s smile widened.

Grimmjow stood before him, katana vibrating slightly from the impact and legs apart in an anticipatory battle stance. He wouldn’t meet Ichigo’s eyes as he panted.

“You seem surprised that Grimmjow would protect me, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo made another swipe at Aizen, only to be blocked again by Grimmjow. He wanted to go bankai and reach for his Hollow, but the past few hours of fighting Grimmjow had tired him.

The Arrancar growled low in his chest. Ichigo couldn’t tell whether it was a helpful warning or a threat.

Aizen stepped around his minion and rest his hand on the flat of Zangetsu’s blade, apparently confident that Ichigo posed no threat to him.

“Did you think that you were friends now? Did you think he was on your side?” Aizen glanced at Grimmjow and laughed. “Oh, he hates me alright, but he knows his place.” Pleasant smile aside, Aizen’s voice was all steel and ice.

Ichigo pulled his sword away and scowled. He attempted a third pass at Aizen but was quickly stopped with a strong arm around his neck and one around his waist, effectively rendering him immobile. Both arms held him fast, making breathing difficult. The body at his back was lean but incredibly strong, seeming to hold the shinigami with no effort. His sword had been tossed aside carelessly. The happy chuckle he heard made his blood run cold.

Aizen had brought Ichimaru with him.

Aizen spoke lightly, as if this was an affable conversation they were having at tea.

“Since you both seem so keen on making deals, let me offer you one,” he said.

Ichigo could feel Gin’s grin against neck, crawling around near his ear and promising to sneak under his skin. He could feel the man’s body thrumming with barely contained reiatsu, ready to unleash at words notice. As it was, there was a steady pressure pressing against him as a warning to remain still.

“Kurosaki….” The man’s smile finally faltered and he seemed stumped. He rubbed his chin and tilted his head as he considered the orange haired shinigami. He moved closer, bending a bit to get eye to eye with him. His eyes studied the young face, so full of adamant hatred and promising righteous payback.

“Souske?” Ichimaru’s voice was like a reed whistling in Ichigo’s ear, making his skin raise in goose bumps.

Aizen smiled wide in triumph. “I will not kill Grimmjow if you acquiesce to my offer.”

Ichigo furrowed his brows in confusion. His body was beginning to ache from being pressed with Ichimaru’s reiatsu and his brain seemed to be slowing down. He caught the look of shock that passed briefly over Grimmjow’s face. The concern he felt was ardently pushed aside in favor of impatience and irritation.

“’The fuck do I care if you kill that asshole? One less person between me and you.” He tried to put menace behind his words but they came out hoarse and quiet, his breathing ragged and strained.

Aizen arched an eyebrow and reached for his zanpaktou. He unsheathed it slowly, closing his eyes as the blade sang against its scabbard.

All eyes were on the shining silver as it arced through the air and stopped a hairs breadth from Grimmjow’s neck.

Blue eyes widened, but the Espada remained still. He even stood taller and tilted his head back slightly, giving Aizen more access. This was not the outspoken, brash, arrogant Grimmjow that Ichigo knew. This man quivered before his master and remained silent in obedience.

Aizen hummed in approval.

Ichimaru made a sound that might have been a squeal and shook Ichigo, causing him to cough and struggle.

“You will listen to what I have to say.” Aizen dragged the tip of Kyouka Suigetsu lightly across the smooth flesh of Grimmjow’s exposed neck. A thin line of red appeared. Grimmjow closed his eyes.

Ichigo couldn’t speak. He reserved his energy for breathing. The weight of Ichimaru’s reiatsu around him and the strength with which he was being held had made his vision blur and his muscles weak. He sagged against Ichimaru, hating that the ex-vice captain had to support him.

As Aizen continued speaking, Ichigo could feel the pressure engulf him, finally realizing that he had no choice in whatever was being offered. He ultimately came to the realization that this was planned. Ichimaru had been slowly suffocating him and Grimmjow was being punished for his disobedience.

His Hollow screamed with indignation, hollered at him to _wakeupbreatheletmeoutdammit_ , but it was no use. His eyes closed. It was better for him not to see the cuts all over Grimmjow’s body and the blood staining the ground at their feet.

He never heard what it was that Aizen was offering and he took it as a small triumph of noncompliance.

The last thing he did remember hearing was Ichimaru’s excited laugh in his ear like nails on a chalkboard.


End file.
